


1, 2, 3, please kiss me

by thirteenohtwo



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22363303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirteenohtwo/pseuds/thirteenohtwo
Summary: Just a collection of oneshots surrounding the concept of a kiss. Romantic, platonic, or otherwise.No chronological order or relation between the chapters unless that's how you wanna read it.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Caduceus Clay/Fjord, Fjord/Caleb Widogast, Fjord/Jester Lavorre, Fjord/Mollymauk Tealeaf, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett, Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre/Yasha, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 13
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

"I don't… like this," Beau grumbles under her breath. 

It's fair, mostly, but Fjord stops dead in the middle of the darkly lit road. One hand on the hip he juts out, the other flicking his bonnet up enough to raise his eyebrow at her. "And how do you think the rest of us feel?"

She eyes the floral pattern on his poofy dress, the way he has to keep adjusting the shoulders because he doesn't have the boobs to keep it in place. It still sucks, the whole thing, her own dress, but this  _ does _ lift her spirits. Just a little, just enough to get a smirk out of her. She flicks her gaze to the other two, and her grin grows.

Caleb, actually, looks very nice in a dress. It's dark and he's slender enough to fool anyone not looking closely, especially with the large hood up. He took his hair out of its tie, and now the fiery ends curl below his chin, poking out of the hood. It's only when he lifts his head enough to see his fuzzy chin that he's given away. But Caleb always keeps his head down, he's more practiced than the others at not drawing attention to himself. She's not sure if anybody even sees him amongst their little group. 

"I think it's nice," Caduceus tells her. He's got his own bonnet that's a bright yellow to match his dress - his dress that barely reaches below his knees, and. What was that story the maids used to tell her? Little Beau Pop. Peep? Peeps? Some sheepherder that shared her name, Beau can just barely remember the pictures in her book, but Caduceus is very reminiscent of that right now. "Everything breathes more, in a dress."

Well.

Less reminiscent as he bends his knees to roll his hips.

She doesn't want to think about whatever is  _ breathing _ under his dress.

Caleb rests his hand on her shoulder with an apologetic, if amused, smile. "We needed a tank on our team and there were no dresses large enough to accommodate Yasha's frame. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, whatever. Gonna get fucking swole so you can't put me in a dress again… Xhorhasian Benching Regimine… stupid lacey frills… can't even kick properly… gonna rip this shit up…"

Her grumbling continues for another few minutes, only stopping when they pass guard patrols. The others duck or turn their faces away, while Beau summons her softest, most passive voice to ask where the museum gala is being held on the grounds. The plan - the plan she hates, the plan that sucks, the plan that deserves to die - is actually working pretty well, they haven't been stopped once, not even when they wander to the places that have been very clearly marked Off Limits. Just a flash of a smile from Beau and her 'ladies' behind her, and they're sent on their innocent way.

She kinda hates it. 

Kinda wishes they'd get caught so she can punch something.

Kinda wishes she got to go with the girls and-

A plume of sparkling, green smoke puffs up from the ground in front of her, has her stepping back and trying to crouch into a defensive position. Fucking dress. 

But then Jester is stepping from her Dimension Door with a beaming smile and tossing her arms around the monk. "Beau! You look so pretty! Ah!  _ Caleb!  _ You look so pretty!" she gushes and all but flings Beau aside to crush their wizard in her arms.

Another pout slides across Beau's face. "You guys got suits?"

_ "Obviously,  _ we were gonna dress up if you were," Jester tells her rather firmly. But she winks and sort of twirls, the tails of her coat flaring out, before she bounces to a stop. Twirls the fake moustache on her lip and adjusts her bowtie. "We need to borrow Caleb! And by borrow, I mean keep, I don't have three Dimension Doors in me."

"Wait, why Caleb?"

"Is there trouble?" Fjord asks over Beau's question. "Where are you guys? We've found nothing on our side."

Jester bumps her shoulders and lifts onto her toes to point in a vague direction. "Like… two hundred and fifty feet that way, give or take. We found a vault! But it's magic, I'm pretty sure. Come find us!"

"Wait-!" He steps forward, green hand reaching.

Beau staggers towards them. "I'm so fucking bored, Jes, take me-!"

"Thanks, guys!" Jester beams and hops once to plant a kiss on Fjord's chin, and ducks to press her lips against Beau's jaw.

The tiefling is gone - with their wizard, in just a few short, chaotic moments. 

Fjord's shoulders slump. "Damn it."

"I suppose we should start heading that way?" Caduceus asks.

A dejected sigh escapes Beau. "Ugh. Yeah, I guess so. C'mon."


	2. Chapter 2

The bubble goes up and the Nein bunker down. 

Caleb is the first to conk out, almost as soon as the bubble covers them. He nosedives into the mess of bed rolls and coats, and Fjord winces because he's pretty sure the buckles on his bag are under Caleb's face so that can't have felt very good. But! The wizard sleeps and everybody feels a little bit better about that.

He's had a long day.

The others settle in more gently, they take their time and get comfy, while Nott and Beau stay up for first watch. Yasha hesitates (she always hesitates) before she  _ very _ carefully curls around Caleb's back, one arm tucked under her head and the other pressed to his back as he shifts onto his side. They both feel a little better with the contact - her, that Caleb is still here, still with them, and him for similar reasons. That he has a powerful storm guardian watching over him as he rests, no spell slots at his fingertips to defend himself.

Only trust in his friends.

Jester flings herself down between Yasha and Caduceus (her second favourite spot to sleep) so she can curl her tail around Yasha's knee and cuddle into the furry warmth of Caduceus' side. She hums with content, and is the second one to fall asleep. Caduceus lifts his head to look at her for a moment, long enough for the gentle curl of a smile to grace his lips, and rests his large hand on her shoulder before he lays back and let's his eyes close.

It takes him longer, he still lingers sometimes. Offers to take first watch, and even after they convince him to just lay down, Fjord stares up through the bubble at the sky. It's been… a long time since he's had the nightmares. He suspects, and hopes, he'll never have them again, but it's a difficult thing to shake. The feeling that comes with knowing who used to wait for him in his dreams. How vulnerable he once was. Fjord isn't sure he'll ever truly  _ enjoy _ sleeping again, but he holds onto the hope. That one day, somewhere down the road, he won't  _ fear _ it so much.

Beau rests her staff across her lap, her legs folded very specifically. Her back is straight enough, rigid enough that Nott feels uncomfortable and slouches harder. "How do you think that went?"

"We're alive," the goblin grumbles. Picks dried blood from her coat. "I think it went  _ very _ well, all things considered."

The monk says nothing, her face gives nothing away. Blue eyes shine with moonlight and study Nott, but they're too reflective. She's too good at hiding, Nott decides. "Me too."

"Do you?"

"I just said I did."

"Yeah, but you  _ say _ a lot," she counters slowly. "You've  _ said _ a lot, through our travels, but we still don't really  _ know _ anything about you."

Finally, Beau's brows tug together with… something, something Nott can't name, because Caleb jolts up with a gasp. He raises his hand, looking around the bubble. "What are-!"

"Shhhh! Hey, we're here. It's fine. There's nobody," Beau soothes. Their eyes meet while his confusion slowly melts away, and Beau uses her staff to push against his shoulder and make him lay back again.

Nott shoves it to the side with a look, and instead guides her wizard back to his place. Smiles reassuring at Yasha who relaxes as well. "He's not here, he won't get you. We have you, Caleb. And we won't let him take you," she promises.

His red hair curls through her fingers as she tucks it back and leans down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.


	3. Chapter 3

She doesn't - it's not. 

She doesn't  _ want _ to.

But the kid won't stop crying and it was  _ her _ idea to play tag, even if it wasn't  _ her _ fault that he tripped.

"Son of a-"

Beau sighs roughly and drops to a crouch, inspecting the fucking  _ lightly _ scraped skin of Luc's knee. Whiner's really milking it. She looks back up at his face - red from crying, tears still in his eyes, bottom lip quivering.

_ Small. He's so fucking small. Too small. _

"Goddamn kid," she grumbles and lifts his knee to peck a chaste kiss.

Luc sniffles but his crying almost immediately subsides. Like he believes that bullshit about kissing booboos better.

Whatever. Nobody can say she's fucking heartless anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

They fall. They fall a lot and they fall often and  _ why _ are they always falling?  _ Why _ are they always plummeting through the air towards an uncertain but grizzly death? 

_ Why _ can't she cast Feather Fall like Nott and Caleb?

And  _ why _ does Beau always jump first?

She can see the monk a little ways away - she's catching up, thankfully, which means she's outrunning the dragon,  _ thankfully.  _ Even over the roar of wind and air in her ears, she can hear the chaos above her - behind her, as she leaves her friends to save her other friend.

Her dumb friend.

Her really dumb, fearless, self-sacrificing, charming, genuinely  _ good _ friend.

She's gonna  _ kill _ her friend.

Jester angles down, gaining faster, and throws out her arms at the last second. The air is knocked out of them both as she collides with Beau, feels the monk's back against her chest, and wraps her arms around tight. "How dare-!"

Somehow - she's not sure how, Beau is  _ super _ wiggly, but somehow Beau still manages to turn around in Jester's grasp. The ends of her hair that's come loose in places of her bun, the blue ribbon, they tickle the sides of Jester's face. Beau's grin is both sheepish and cocky, her endearing arrogance. "I did have a plan."

"Did it involve not dying?"

"Mostly."

They have to shout to hear each other and maybe that’s why Beau is staring so intently at her lips while she speaks, and maybe it’s just the rush of falling to your potential death that has fluttering unicorns prancing in Jester’s stomach, but there’s something kind of perfect about this.

Something uniquely…  _ them _ . 

“Beau!” she shouts and tries to tame the nervous smile on her face.

It’s reflected back at her in Beau’s own grin, the curious quirk of her eyebrow. “Jes?” she shouts back.

“Can I kiss you?”

_ “... Now?!” _

Yes. Yes, now. With a dragon soaring through the air just over Jester’s shoulder, having caught sight of them. With a plume of flame billowing against and around the mighty beast’s jaw as Caleb makes his strongest strike yet. With the frantic, anxious screech of Nott’s voice in Jester’s head, asking if they’re alive. 

With Beau looking at her so softly, so hopefully, and without any shred of doubt. With love and trust shining in the clearest pools of blue Jester has ever seen in her life. With her hands clutching an Expositor vest, and Beau’s hands on her blue cheeks. 

She must see it in Jester’s face. A dark flush works up Beau’s cheeks and she traces her thumb along Jester’s cheekbone so  _ tenderly _ , so… so lovingly, and  _ oh. _ How did she not see this before? How did she not notice? 

Beau  _ loves _ her.

Their noses bump together and, yeah, maybe Beau had a point. There’s probably a better setting for their first kiss, but it’s too late. They’re both smiling and reaching for each other, both trying to stay close, stay together, and  _ Beau’s lips are so soft,  _ **_oh_ ** _ my goodness! _

  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

_ "Holy shit, oh my gods, holy fuck. Oh no, no, no. Caduceus, Deucy, tell me you can fix that. Oh my god, oh fuck, oh hell, oh-" _

The firbolg cradles Beau's face between his large, warm hands and kisses the top of her head as his magic flows through her. 

The tissue and muscle of her knee starts to weave back together before her very eyes and.

And shit. Yeah. Apparently kissing booboos better really  _ does _ work.


	6. Chapter 6

The guard looks between the two of them suspiciously, like his eyes alone can rip the truth from their lips. And  _ maybe _ , were it any other pair, he'd at least have a  _ chance _ of that, but as it happened, he found  _ these _ two. And these two?

Well, nobody clings to a lie quite as well or quite as desperately as Fjord and Beau.

If they don't want to give you the truth, then - frankly - you're never getting it from them.

Still, this guard tries. His gaze flicks between the two of them, taking in the young human and the illusion of the older gentleman who he had just  _ seen _ hop a fence like it was nothing. He's not a dumb man, he's been on the job for many, many years, and has kept this manor safe for all that time. "This man is your grandfather?" he asks, skeptically.

The young woman glances to her… family, and nods. "Yeah, totally. You don't see the resemblance?"

"I've been related to this young'un since she was runnin' 'round butt-nekked, young man!" the other one, the supposed older man, croaks at him. Even shakes a wrinkled fist for good measure.

He hums. "How many piercings does she have - without looking!"

"...many."

He scoffs.  _ "How _ many?"

"More than you."

"I don't have  _ any-" _

The girl barks out a laugh and crosses her arms. "That's not very fair. I just got two more yesterday and he's almost blind. Ask a different question."

"Tell me your favourite meal and we'll ask-"

"He doesn't know that. What the fuck, man, what kinda bullshit is this? You think  _ I,  _ an  _ Expositor  _ of the Cobalt Soul, am lying? To you? Trust me, dude, if I was lying to you, you wouldn’t know, you wouldn’t even  _ suspect _ it.” The look she sends him is all kinds of degrading and arrogant, and that in itself helps sell it. 

What are the chances someone would be such an  _ ass _ while trying to lie? Who would actively poke the guard’s buttons if they were trying to be discreet? 

Hmm…

The old man elbows his granddaughter with a sidelong glance, and smiles with a mouthful of crooked teeth. “Now, now… Bebe,” the girl tilts her head, eyes narrowing, “that wasn’t very nice. Apologize to the nice man and give your old popop a kiss.”

“I would literally rather d-”

_ “Bebe _ , you’re being very stubborn and we still have to meet up with your grandmother,” he chides gently but firmly. 

The girl stares at him for a moment. A  _ long _ moment that has even the guard feeling uncomfortable. But she turns, sighs lowly. “I’m… sorry, sir. You’re just doing your job. We’ll get out of your fuckin’ hair.”

“Manners,” her grandfather singsongs.

And she all but throws her hands in the air. “That’s not -  _ god _ , fine, I’m so sorry, sir. One  _ thousand _ apologies - c’mere, popop!” 

“Oh, hey, I’m old! Be careful!”

“Gimme some sugar, old man!”

“Don’t -  _ unhand me!” _ The girl gets her arm around her grandfather’s shoulders, dragging him in close to smash her face against the side of his in, possibly,  _ the _ most hostile kiss the guard has ever seen in his life.

It’s honestly one of the strangest afternoons he’s ever had on patrol, and he mostly wants it done with. After a stern warning of trespassing, intentional or not, he sends them on their way.


	7. Chapter 7

There's something here. Something between them that, at times, is a crackling energy like lightning striking between them. That leaves their nerves on fire and utterly aware of their proximity, that has hearts beating harder, and breathing coming out shorter, and blushes climbing up towards cheeks.

And sometimes it's gentle, just a calm, buzzing current between them. Soft and comforting, a connection to be felt when everything else in their lives, when it's all uncertain. Not one without the other. 

But sometimes.

Sometimes it's just this  _ thing _ that's super distracting, especially when she's trying to help  _ disguise _ her very human friend in the  _ City of Beasts.  _ Like right now. 

Beau watches her, blue eyes sparkling like sapphires against her dark skin, made even darker by the grime that she and Caleb smeared across their faces. It has bold streaks, almost black, where she dragged her fingers down and across and. Warpaint. It almost looks like warpaint against her skin, framing the intensity of her gaze, the sharpness of it. With her hair down in messy curls, all of the Cobalt Blue tucked into the Haversack, she's left only in simple black and navy clothes that barely cover her torso. And what they don't, the harness wraps around. Buckles and hoops and strong leather, with muscle flexing against it.

She looks like a warrior and Jester has to physically stop herself from swooning when she remembers that Beau literally kills people with her bare hands. 

It's harder - when one of those lethal weapons comes up to cup Jester's cheek. When she feels the warmth and the roughness of Beau's palm. It's. It's too damn gentle, a touch too delicate, and her  _ mind.  _ Her mind won't stop racing, won't stop  _ wondering. _

How many people has Beau touched like this? How many people is she this careful with?

Jester's not stupid, she sees - she  _ knows _ that Beau is different with her. Softer. Kinder. More patient. She's crossed the line a few times now, and where Beau would have yelled, where she would have gotten angry, or it might have fractured a relationship… she simply let's go, for Jester. 

Simply  _ there _ for Jester.

Always.

Unwaveringly.

"Beau," she whispers and clears her throat because she really didn't mean to whisper. That makes this more intimate that it needs to be.

How can she not, though? How can she not sink into the intimacy between them when a smile curves Beau's lips up in the corner, when the blue of her eyes twinkle with content each time Jester says her name?

The monk may be patient but Jester never claimed to be. She tugs at the harness, at the leather, until Beau is pressed right up against her and the blush finally breaches her cheeks. Manhandled. Her human likes being manhandled. "Remember when I asked you if you were secretly in love with me?"

The hand on her cheek tenses. "Yes."

"And," Jester licks her lips, watches Beau follow the action with her eyes, "and remember when you said  _ in a way?" _ She doesn't wait, not really, but Beau nods and Jester's hands are sweaty. She let's the harness go to instead hold Beau's hips in her hands, rubs her thumbs over the crease of the v sticking out the top of her pants. Feels the goosebumps that raise beneath her palms. "Did you really mean yes?"

"..." Beau opens her mouth but the words don't come. She stares at Jester with an unreadable expression, with thought-furrowed eyebrows, and a tightness to her jaw.

She just stares and Jester nods, more to herself. "You could ask me, if you wanted."

At once, Beau relaxes again. Sinks against Jester, until the tiefling is holding her weight - not much, Beau is lithe and all muscle, but lean rather than bulky like Jester. Meant for speed and agility and Jester knows that she's impossible to catch, that Beauregard Lionette will never be caught unless she wants to be.

And here she is. Between Jester's hands. Very much caught.

"Jes," she murmurs softly. Roughly. Always, always bouncing between opposites. Rude but kind. Stubborn but relenting when she needs to be. A leader all too willing to follow those worthy. An asshole… and so very, undeniably loveable. "Are you secretly in love with me?"

It's instinct. She can't help it, not really.

"In a way," she chirps cheekily.

Beau scoffs and rolls her eyes, she's amused but pulls away to - well, Jester will never know. The tiefling hooks her finger through the little metal hoop on the front of Beau's collar and  _ tugs _ , pulls her human down close so she can drag her bottom lip over Beau's - featherlight. Testing.  _ Teasing,  _ more teasing, and it's fun. The two of them, it's always been fun, and she hopes it will always be fun, hopes they will always have this. The ease with which they interact, with which they exist around each other. 

She can feel Beau's smile. Can feel the hand, warm - scalding, like the sun itself, pressed flat against her back, holding her tight against Beau's front. She can feel the monk's fingers curl around the back of her neck, at the base to pull gently and tilt her head up - just enough. Just enough. But still, she doesn't take what she wants, what Jester  _ knows _ she wants, what  _ Jester _ wants.

Because  _ she _ has to know Jester wants it.

She'll never put her own desires above Jester's, will never take what isn't given, and never ask unless told to. Never even risk hurting her that way.

Jester's chest feels tight - a good tight, but an intense tight. She's breathless and giddy, and that crackling energy is back, lightning is striking, coursing between the two of them.

Her eyes fall shut. 

Her hands tighten on Beau.

"In every way, I think."

She pushes forward.


	8. Chapter 8

"Caduceus kissed me."

Caleb blinks. "What?"

_ "Caduceus. Kissed. Me,"  _ Fjord repeats. Like the wizard simply didn't hear him, like the only issue here is the volume of his voice or the clarity of his words.

“Was it a kiss or was it a  _ kiss?” _

“Is there a difference?!”

The smirk is wicked but mostly hidden behind his book, and Fjord remembers how unexpectedly mischievous Caleb can be. “Well, was it more like the kind of kiss Nott would give Beau or the kind that Jester would give Beau?”

More darkness creeps up Fjord’s neck as he averts his gaze. “More like… the second, but not quite as… um, enthused? No picture frames were knocked from walls.”

Caleb massages the bridge of his nose and sets his book down. He drops his feet from the footrest to the floor - grounds himself, feels more sturdy and less vulnerable in such a relaxed position, and grips the arms of the comfy chair. His eyes study the blushing half-orc who won't stop pacing. "Did you like it?"

"It was fuzzy - and that's not  _ at all _ the point!" he gasps and whirls around on the human. Leans forward and points an accusing finger. "Why would he do that?!"

Ah. That kind of talk.

Caleb blows air from his lips and lifts a hand to flip his palm up. "You are an attractive man, Fjord. Is it any wonder that someone would hold affection for you? Jester did, for a while."

"That's not the same. She was idealizing me, it was transference." He waves the whole thought off, dismissively, and goes back to his pacing. Scrubs a hand down his face, dragging his fingers through the stubble on his jaw. "Caduceus does everything on purple."

"On purple?"

"Purpose. Fuck! I'm all tongue-tied." Green fingers press against Fjord's eyes and he groans. "Is it a cultural thing? Is it a religious thing? Is it a personal thing that could totally fuck up the religion thing we have? Is it just something  _ I  _ will fuck up? Oh shit. Caleb. Caleb, what if he  _ likes _ me? What if I break that man's heart, after everything he has done for me? What if-"

"Okay!" Caleb finally stands and walks over to pat Fjord's shoulder. He doesn't quite make it - his hand hangs awkwardly in the air over a slightly more muscular shoulder. "I have a few thoughts. The first would be to go and talk with Caduceus so that you can get all of the information you need, clearly and from the source. Speculation can be poisonous."

"You've got to be ki-"

He holds up a finger, turning away to pace much more leisurely. "I am not finished. Secondly, I think you should remember that this  _ is _ Caduceus we are talking about, the most patient being to walk this planet. I doubt you could 'fuck this up' anyway. He will respect your feelings, either way, and I do not see him making things weird about it. Or weirder than they usually are when they involve him."

"Okay, but-"

"My lips are still moving, Fjord," he huffs but can't keep the mirth from sparkling in his eyes. "You and Jester have a bad habit of jumping the spell, you know, so quick to assume and never let people finish their sentences." They both stare at each other for a solid three seconds, and Caleb grins. "Ah, there. See? Life is much easier when we take a moment to breathe and think. Which brings me to my third point. You really need to figure out how  _ you _ feel, regardless of the consequences and outcome. You need to be honest with yourself before you do anything else."

Fjord's shoulders slump. "But what if how I feel isn't what he was hoping for?"

"I cannot speak definitively for the others but I suspect they feel similar to myself. I know it would hurt me more if you forced yourself to pretend just to spare my feelings. You are allowed to be yourself, Fjord," Caleb tells him firmly. Even goes so far as to grab Fjord by his slumping shoulders and look him in the eye. "Your feelings are valid, no matter the outcome."

A ghost of a smile has the warlock's lips twitching. His body relaxes infinitesimally. "And what if I feel exactly how he hopes I would?" 

"Then you would have my secrecy and your privacy until  _ you _ decide we should all know." 

Fjord nods and lingers there - just for a moment, just to make the peace last a little longer. It isn't often the two of them talk like this, about… important things like this. It's nice. 

But there are matters that need his attention, and he can feel Caleb starting to get squirmy. So he pats the wizard's shoulder and heads for the door. "I have to talk to Caduceus." He stops, halfway out of the room, and their eyes meet again. "Thank you, Caleb. I… thank you." 


End file.
